


Can't Get You Out of My Head

by Sister_Grimm



Series: Anarchy in Central City [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sister_Grimm/pseuds/Sister_Grimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hartley doesn't do feelings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Get You Out of My Head

Lisa rolls her eyes when Hartley fucks up for the third time this rehearsal and curses loudly. He's starting to feel like he's setting a record. Personal worst rehearsal. He prides himself on his talent. He was a prodigy after all, he thinks with a sneer. 

Len hands him a beer from the fridge when Lisa calls a break, "You need it." He says flatly.

Hartley just sighs and sits on the floor, guitar in hand as he runs through the new song slowly, trying to get a better feel for each note. 

"Hart, relax." Lisa says with a smile and Hartley just rolls his eyes at her. He'll relax when he learns this fucking song. She winks and raises her beer to toast him.

"After I learn the song, Lisa." He grumbles. And she just laughs.

"I'm not worried about that, dude." She grins.

 

***  
After a rehearsal that frustrating, Hartley needs a good night out. So he finds himself outside Central City's only gay bar, looking to get lucky. He's not exactly dressed to kill but he doesn't have to be. He leans over the bar, orders a beer and turns to people watch, get his bearings, see who's out and who looks like fun. 

He can pinpoint the newly out, looking like lost puppies barely old enough to drink.

The newly single, looking extra desperate.

And the permanently single, looking equal parts desperate and bored.

And of course, the true challenge: the coupled up.

Choices, choices.

His eyes flicker through the strobing lights and rest on a well built blond dude a little younger than him, either newly out or taken, based on the way people kept approaching and then backing off. So he downs the rest of his beer and slips on to the dance floor. The music is good, heavy on the house music and techno. The kind of music that synchs up with your heart rate. So Hartley pushes his way over to blondie, gets his hands on his skinny hips, grinds on a fucking perfect ass. The guy turns to face him and he is very young but he moves closer and Hartley begins to reevaluate his newly out theory but notices an older guy lounging in the corner, just watching them. Well, that had the potential to be very sexy. His machinations are interrupted by someone cutting in and even in the flashing light Hartley recognizes Cisco Ramon, ever present man bun missing, dark hair around his shoulders and Hartley gives him an appreciative once over, loops his fingers into the belt loops of Cisco's jeans and moves in closer.

He has to admit, Cisco's hot. Stupidly happy but hot enough that Hartley's willing to overlook his glaring personality flaws. And the fact that he isn't even a little bit Hartley's type. He likes older guys, the kind of guys who know what they're doing and might have a fun collection of toys. Someone like.... Hartley suppresses the familiar feelings of nausea and humiliation that beckon whenever he think of Harrison Wells. But when Cisco kisses him, hungry and fierce and tasting of cigarettes, Hartley wants. He gets his fingers in Cisco's hair, drinking in the little gasps he makes when Hartley pulls and he can feel how turned on Cisco is. And fuck it, if Hartley said he hadn't thought about it he'd be lying through his teeth, so he grabs Cisco's hand and pulls him towards the back of the club and tugs Cisco into an empty stall. Cisco braces himself against the door as Hartley kneels with all the grace of a childhood spent living up to expectations. Doesn't bother getting Cisco's jeans much further past his knees. Brushes his tongue over the head and looks up at Cisco through long eyelashes and he knows he's a hell of a picture as he swallows Cisco's dick. He hears Cisco shudder with pleasure and now it's one of Cisco's hands in his hair, the other lazily tracing his cheek and it's frighteningly tender as Hartley hollows out his cheeks and focuses on drawing out the small mewls Cisco is attempting to muffle. It's not like anyone in the club could hear them anyway. "Hartley. Fuck, I'm gonna..." Cisco's warning is cut off by his choked off groan as he comes. Hartley looks up, appreciating the way Cisco seems to go boneless and he practically pulls Hartley up, kissing him roughly.

And Hartley realizes, horror stuck, he wants to do that again. Wants to keep kissing Cisco until he is fucking begging Hartley to fuck him. So he turns and leaves before Cisco even finishes putting his pants back on. Orders a shot of tequila and slams it back before he goes to grab his coat.

He walks back to the house, blasting his aggressive punk so loud he's sure people across the street can hear it too. He is so fucked.

When he gets back to the house, the first thing he sees is Len on the beat up couch so he asks, "Lisa or Mick around?" Len just shakes his head and shrugs. So Hartley kicks off his shoes, hangs up his coat and climbs into Len's lap, straddling him and Len gets those big strong hands on him and kisses him, slow but no less laced with desire than...Cisco earlier.

"Have fun?" Len asks as he breaks the kiss and he pulls back and gets a good look at Hartley, and ok, Hartley knows he probably looks wrecked, he feels wrecked, probably tastes like Cisco and cigarettes and tequila. "You know, Hart, I can't tell if you're fucked up or just really fucking easy." 

Hartley smirks, rolls his hips the way he knows Len likes it, "Does it matter?"

And he appreciates that Len's response is smothered by a low throaty groan of want. He leans over, presses slow teasing kisses to Len's neck and feels Len's hands tighten on his hips. He bites, perhaps rougher than some people would like but knows Len can take. Can feel how fast Len gets hard when Hartley gets a little rougher. So Hartley begins to shove Len's hoodie off his shoulders, gets his hands under his shirt and Len breaks the kiss again. "Bed. I'm not doing this here." 

Hartley rolls his eyes and leans back, "You have no sense of danger, Len."

"I'm not a fucking exhibitionist with more issues than fucking national geographic."

"My issues get you laid, don't pretend you don't like it." And when Hartley hasn't moved, Len just picks him up, Hartley wrapping his legs around Len's waist.  
"You're a disaster, kid." Len said but he's breathing heavily and his usual level of snark doesn't quite translate as he pushes open the door to his bedroom and Hartley hits the bed first pulling Len down on top of him. Len yanks his shirt over his head, and Hartley takes a moment to appreciate that Len is built like a brick wall and covered in tattoos. He tugs his own shirt over his head and feels the thousand mile stare of lust Len fixes on him and he leans back and looks up at Len who hold him down with his palm and kisses him. Finesse has gone out the window by this point, this kiss is all teeth and want. And when Len unbuttons Hartley's pants, he pauses and breaths in his ear, "So what do you want, kid?"

"Fucking fuck me, Snart." He hisses, he's not quite begging. He may have issues but he still has his fucking pride. 

And Len laughs, "Rude." But he moves to allow Hartley to finish taking off his pants and drop his own and Hartley can see the outline of Len's cock straining at his boxers and hands him lube and a condom from the dresser drawer. "Hands and knees, Hart." By now Len is intimately familiar with Hartley's issues and he pushes one well lubed finger into him. It's not exactly gentle and it draws a sharp, shaky gasp from Hartley. "You good?" Len asks.

"Fucking fuck me. I'm not breakable." Hartley hisses as best he can.

He can hear Len chuckling as he adds a second finger, "You're so impatient." Well he's needed to come basically since he first kissed Cisco so yeah, he's impatient. Finally, fuck, finally he feels Len line his dick up and push in to him slowly.

"You can fuck me harder than that." Hartley whines.

"Hmm, you're still talking. I must be doing something wrong." And Len pulls almost all the way out and then snaps his hips forward, almost knocking Hartley off balance with the sheer force of him. And for the first time since he left Cisco at the bar Hartley's mind is quiet. It lasts all of thirty seconds before he's remembering the taste and feel of Cisco, the choked off cry and the way he went limp when he came.

"Harder, fuck, more." Hartley gasps out.

Len gets his hands on his hips again and he is going to leave bruises in the shape of those big hands by the time they're done tonight. The next time he snaps forward like that Hartley is expecting it and is meeting him movement for movement. Len lets one hand fall from Hartley's hip and brush against his dick and Hartley shudders. "Fuck, Len." And Len gets the message, takes Hartley's Dick in hand and jerks him to the rhythm of his thrusts and it is more that Hartley can take, coming moments before Len.

Breathing heavily he feels Len pull out to dispose of the condom and watches him toss Hartley back his shirt. "Get your shit together, Hartley," Len says dryly, "and you should probably have a shower." 

Hartley flips him off but gets mostly dressed. Skips the pants, because he doubts anyone else has gotten home yet. His phone is still in his coat pocket and he sighs as he goes back for it. Harrison had insisted they all have each other's numbers in case of emergency but that doesn't mean Cisco still has his but he swallows his pride and types out the text anyway, "We should do that again sometime."


End file.
